


Billy Batson and the Snippets of Life In Between

by RockerRema13



Series: The Troubles of Work Life Balance [2]
Category: DC Extended Universe, Justice League - All Media Types, Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Chapter prompts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Loneliness, Minor life crisis, Shazam Zine 2020, Shazam week 2019, Snart Siblings, Team as Family, Unlikely Friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockerRema13/pseuds/RockerRema13
Summary: Literally snippets of Billy's life in between and throughout the Troubles of Work Life Balance.





	1. Sweater Season

**Author's Note:**

> Hey yall! Sorry for not updating BBTWLB in a hot second, it's been a troublesome chapter and my life has gotten busy. 
> 
> In the mean time I've been enjoying the tumblr Shazam Week 2019, and have written some prompts to get the muses going! Each chapter is based on a prompt, and may include relations already explored in the main story or have yet to be revealed! 
> 
> There's no real chronological order here or with WorkLife Balance, but there is overlap, so take the possible hints of future spoilers with a grain of salt? Anyway, they're really just prompts I wanted to explore, and I cant separate my headcanons from the main story canon, so here we are.
> 
> Prompt one: Seasons, ft the Snart siblings!

The seasons were changing.

Chilly winds were coming back to life. Leaves were falling from their trees. Decorations were leaving summer behind. Autumn was upon them. Truths were finally harvested.

Change was happening. It was always inevitable, but Billy had hoped he could stave it off a little longer, that he could keep everything under wraps and under control until he was ready, until it was the right time.

Change doesn't ask for permission, though…

And apparently, neither did infamous thieves.

"This isn't what I had in mind when you kidnapped me off the street, you know," Billy said, exasperated and amused all at once. 

"And what did you have in mind, hmm? Bank robbery? Heists? Being held hostage?" The woman asked, her hand casually stayed upon his shoulder, but Billy knew she needn't use force to get him to stay. He wasn't going anywhere else any time soon. 

"I mean…" Billy glanced around, eyeing the other mall shoppers as they passed by. "I wasn't expecting this, to be honest."

There was a child running towards a toy store, their exhausted parent dragging behind them. A couple was heatedly discussing something over at the kitchen store. Some pretty teenage girls giggled where they sat at a bench, coffee cups in one hand and shopping bags in the other.

It all seemed very… strangely normal to Billy. Another world he had only really gleaned in passing, somewhere he only stepped into while he was Captain Marvel and meeting civilians. He wasn't supposed to be here as Billy. 

He wasn't supposed to have a normal day when everything had been uprooted.

And he definitely wasn't supposed to be here with the Snart siblings.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, little scarlet," reappearing from the depths of the sweater section of the clothing store they were currently in, Leonard Snart stopped before them. "We can include you on our next job."

"Please don't."

"Aww, don't be like that," Lisa ruffled his hair and grabbed onto the sweaters draped over Len's arm. She inspected them with a critical eye, though Billy couldn't tell what exactly she was deciding. "You'd make a cute lil distraction."

Billy rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into a Rogues crime spree. He was already in hot water with the League right now and-

No. Not thinking about that.

"Lenny, these are all dark," Lisa said as she tossed the sweaters back to her brother.

"Yes, they are," he replied in the same monotone way of his, but Billy could hear the snark in it. Especially as he carefully folded the sweaters back into neatness.

"They're boring," she folded her arms across her chest in a huff.

"You mean they're not gold." 

Lisa glared at him. "He needs color in his life. Gold included."

That was not true at all. "I don't really need any-"

"You're getting these."

"Yes, you do!"

Well, okay then. 

Billy sighed in resignation. He had already tried getting out of this situation before they even entered the building. He explained to them that no, he did not need new clothes, and that yes, he was aware that his current red hoodie had a hole in it, but it was still good and he still had a backup hoodie for when this one fell apart. 

It wasn't even that cold yet! He was fine, thanks for asking!

But when did adults ever listen to children? When did Billy ever get a say?

When the Snart siblings spotted him sweeping leaves off the sidewalk for the local stores, his hoodie having an obvious hole on the side - a snag he got when he squeezed through a chain link fence to get away from some ruffians - they would not take no for an answer. In fact, they picked him up and set him on Len's motorcycle and the next thing Billy knew, he was being dragged into the mall.

He had been a bit preoccupied at the time. A lot was on his mind, lately.

Len lead Billy toward the fitting rooms. "If you want to pick out a horrendous sweater, that's on you, Lise."

Lisa flipped her curls over her shoulder, throwing the last words in as well, "I have better taste than you, anyway."

Billy could hear the long suffering huff from the man. But he could tell there was no actual heat behind it. It was that sibling banter type of exchange. Something Billy recognized because of the silly arguments he's had with Freddy, almost always about superheroes or where to get the best hotdogs.

"Try these on," Len said as he handed the sweaters to Billy and closed the fitting room door.

Carefully placing the very nice clothing on the cushioned seat in the corner, Billy was momentarily distracted by the mirror that took up two walls of the small room. Blaring lights lined the full length mirror, ensuring nothing would be hidden when someone gazed upon their own reflection. 

And nothing was missed. 

Shedding his hoodie and shirt, Billy traced the path of his lightning scar that travelled across him. The ugly knotted tissue was centered above his chest, right by his heart. Its branches reached across and arched over his shoulder, and as he turned around he saw them peak to his back. The tissue didn't hurt him. It didn't have much feeling at all, except for when the chilly weather dropped, then it only ached a little bit. But he knew he wouldn't be able to wear certain clothes, as this past summer had been tricky.

Maybe having some extra sweaters would be a good thing.

But he could get a bulk of them from the second hand store. He didn't need fancy new ones personally picked out from Captain Cold.

"C'mon, scarlet," Len called out, like Billy could possibly find a way to sneak around him. 

No longer able to hide, Billy stepped out. "No offense, but I feel like this… is a bit much." The sweater was a dark blue turtleneck that fit perfectly, which nearly surprised Billy since he's sure he never told Len what size clothing he wore.

"Nonsense!" Lisa exclaimed as she strode in, arms full of golds, yellows, and black. "We're not even getting started. Also that makes you look like some snobby rich brat. I hate it."

"He looks dignified," Len countered, eyeing her bundle of clothes with suspicion. 

"He looks like a wayward Wayne child. Here, try these!" She shooed Billy back inside, pushing the new articles of clothes with him. 

At the click of the door shutting, Billy heard the sniping banter start up again. It was comforting, in a way. To hear them casually talk around him without censoring themselves, to feel their hands ruffle his hair like he wasn't made of glass, like he wasn't a burden, like they cared about him.

Was this what having an aunt and uncle was like? 

(He missed the League, he missed Arrow and Canary's back and forth, he missed Diana's quiet room, he missed Hal and Flash's laughter, he missed-)

Billy blinked and was surprised at the moisture in his eyes. He took a deep breath and listened a moment longer to them talk before trying one of the ridiculously oversized sweaters Lisa chose for him. 

The neck was too large, sliding off his shoulders so that he had to strategically keep it covering his scarred up left side. It wasn't exactly his color, nor something he ever planned on wearing, but he could at least humor her.

"Adorable. Fashionable."

"Impractical."

"Hush, Lenny."

"Try the button cardigan. The wool is thicker and it has inside pockets."

"No, no! The leather jacket one! The fabric on the inside is soft."

"Leather jackets aren't warm."

"This one is!"

"He has a jacket already-"

"And? He needs something besides a parka, Len!"

"Stop!" A swell of emotions rose in Billy's chest. He found comfort in their presence, in his voices, he really did, but this... This was all too much. "I really appreciate the effort, I do. But I don't… But my hoodies fit fine. My clothes are fine. I don't need new things! I don't want new things! I just…"

_I want everything to stop._

_I want everything to go back._

_I don't want change._

In the wake of the heavy silence, Lisa casually spoke. "These are ugly, anyway. C'mon, we'll get some food." She grabbed at the pile of clothes and strode away.

In her absence, the dawning realization of what he had done started to crush Billy under its weight.

Why did he always mess things up?

Why did he always say the wrong things?

Captain Marvel was always good at words, at explaining things, at saying what he meant. 

But not Billy. He never finds the right things to say, can never tell others what he's feeling, can never be wise and smart and charming.

No wonder the League didn't want him.

He ruined everything.

"You don't always get what you want, scarlet," Len said. He cool eyes never left Billy's face, so he turned away in shame because he knows that! He knows he never gets what he wants. "But new clothes aren't the problem here."

No, they weren't. Leonard Snart had always been a clever and sharp man, and Billy was getting sick and tired of feeling like just a child. Like he had no control over his life.

"Everything's changing. It's going too fast and I can't stop it and I just… I want… I don't know, I don't wanna be lost," Billy said to the floor.

"Then pick a sweater," Len said.

That made no sense. This had nothing to do with sweaters!

Billy blinked up, baffled. "Wha?"

"You can't stop things from happening, you just admitted that," he shrugged as he gently nudged Billy back into the fitting room. "Don't beat yourself up over circumstances you can't change. It'll get you nowhere. Always be aware of what you can control, and always be aware that even those variables can shift. That's a part of life, kid. But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the finer things in life."

Billy stood in the dressing room, and stared at his old, worn hoodie. 

What was finer than being a part of the Justice League?

"That's terrible advice," he couldn't help but say, trying hard to ignore how thick his voice sounded.

"Then do something else."

His eyes moved toward the lone sweater hanging - dark red and soft, pockets on the inside. Perfect.

Billy opened the door and felt himself smile because he didn't know what else to do with his face and he knew how red his eyes were. His old hoodie was back on, but he clung onto the new sweater. "What does that even mean?"

Len smirked, easily ignoring the signs and Billy was immensely grateful. "It means you chose a terrible color, but at least you picked something." His hand was firm on Billy's shoulder, warm and guiding. "Which is better than Lisa's choice, but I'm sure she's already stolen the leather jacket for you."

Billy laughed.

The seasons were changing.

And he was changing, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! I just really wanted to write another Snart and Billy interaction okay??
> 
> Also, I'm taking the opportunity to turn these prompts as pseudo deep as I want! 
> 
> Spoilers: in this chapter it alludes to Billy's identity being revealed to the League and he's in a sort of limbo as it were. But he has friends in all sorts of places!


	2. Happy Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Holiday, ft John Constantine

Halloween had always been one of Billy's favorite holidays. 

Before he was Captain Marvel, he would spend the day at the Fawcett Park Market, getting his face painted in preparation for trick-or-treating. The amount of candy he snagged would last him weeks, even far into December if he controlled himself.

Before he managed to permanently escape from his Uncle Ben, Billy enjoyed Halloween for the chance it gave him to be far away from the man. At least for the night. When he returned, he'd always have to hide a majority of his stash in his room, lest his uncle throw his entire loot into the garbage. 

Ever since becoming the Champion of Magic, however, Billy found no time for Halloween shenanigans anymore. He had a responsibility to uphold, civilians to watch over, monitor duty to attend. 

Billy Batson wasn't a kid anymore. 

"What do you mean, you're not going out? You're thirteen years old! Go throw eggs and TP at some old tosser's house, get sick from too much candy, and all of that!"

Billy didn't know where to begin, everything about what he'd said was just...wrong. "John, I'm twelve. And I'm on patrol tonight. Do you know how bad it would be if the League found out I… egged someone's house? I'd be toast!"

But the thought of throwing rotten eggs at his Uncle Ebenezer's house brought on a joy he was ashamed to acknowledge. 

On the other side of the mirror, Constantine took a long, contemplative drag of his cigarette. "Do you realize how mad what you just said was? You're twelve and you've got patrol for what? Fawcett? The entire bloody world?"

The familiar heat of indignation, of embarrassment, flared at his cheeks. "So what?"

When he sighed, smoke obscured part of his features, but his blue eyes - clear and crisp and so much deeper than others gave credit for - pinned Billy to his spot. It was an accusing stare. A look that challenged Billy, doubted him, was filled with more condescension than John's words could imitate. It was a look plenty of adults gave plenty of kids when they did something particularly exhausting. 

Billy hated that look.

He also knew that John hated the League, that Billy was even part of the League. Against all opinions of him, John was actually quite soft for children, became rather protective and reckless for them. Billy knew John thought of him as a child, heck, the magician looked out for him well enough, and Billy appreciated it, really he did. But…

"Know much about the spirit world and Hallow's Eve?" John asked, thankfully diverting the subject. At Billy's head shake, he continued. "The veil between alive, dead, and undead becomes thin, nearly open. All the planes of existence sync up. Get the most supernatural activity around that time. And I know the lot of em throw one killer of a ball."

Immediately, Billy had perked up, always interested in learning more about the magical community. But at the mention of a party filled with paranormal creatures?

Billy knew the glee on his face was evident as John chuckled.

"Unless, of course," he added, tone teasing, "you're too busy patrolling."

Ah, crap.

-x-

"Are you sure this will work?" Billy asked as he looked at John's handiwork. It was impressive and amazing, and Billy never got tired of seeing magic in action.

"C'mon now, lad, trust me here," he said with a face that did not at all look like John Constantine.

"It's not that I don't trust you, exactly…" 

They were currently in New York City, strolling down an alleyway that John was very certain lead into their destination. As they got ready earlier in the day, he had explained that the ball was a public affair, a yearly celebration that warranted total truce once entered. No murderous or underhanded conflict permitted on the property. The event was hosted by an affluent influence within the magical or supernatural community, though it took the effort of some key abilities to pull it off, to ensure the location was safe and secure. 

However, just because there was no guest list didn't mean anyone could waltz on in. Unless they were a plus one, a regular human or extraterrestrial could not enter the compound. Afterall, there was still so much that neither knew or understood about the world, about Earth and her inhabitants and patrons from all walks of existence. Only those immersed in the community and its secrets could be trusted to attend. 

Though, Billy was unsure how solid a definition of trust that they used. 

And then there were certain individuals or groups on a blacklist. No matter if they had attended before or were invited by someone going - once someone was banned, it took a great deal of influence to be welcomed back.

That is, unless someone was clever and crafty enough at magical tricks to sneak in.

Someone like the infamous and definitely blacklisted John Constantine.

"Think of it like any other Halloween party, yeah? Some folks go as themselves and that's fine, but boring, honestly, and others wear costumes. Nobody's gonna rip off someone's mask, right?" John smiled with far too many sharp teeth, with a face that was not his own. "That's how glamour is around these ilk."

It made sense, sure. But still, Billy couldn't help but feel...weird. Don't get him wrong, it was exciting getting to join in on this adventure, but looking into the mirror and instead of seeing himself, or even Captain Marvel, he saw a strange creature. It was creepy. 

Once John applied the glamour dust, Billy used his own magic to shape what he wanted to appear as - an aesthetic look inspired by his own Feyr. 

With Tawny's help, Billy became a tiger themed witch boy. Pointed ears and a gliding tail, sharp fangs and claws, wild hair and catlike eyes, a magically fitted black suit with striped markings that followed onto his skin, and eerie blood splatter across his hands and face - Billy so wanted to wear this for other Halloween parties.

(He doesn't actually believe he'd ever get the chance, but well, one could dream.)

Though, he admitted, he was sort of jealous of John's glamour. A full transformation into a stylishly decorated demon - large horns, full black eyes, fancy clothing and a grand colorful coat. He looked really, really cool.

"I could've gone as Marvel, you know. Being an adult seems easier for this," Billy commented. It would have also been safer. 

Great adventure aside, Billy wasn't stupid enough to ignore the dangers he was getting into. He may be magically inclined, but Marvel was the Champion of Magic. If things went south, he would prefer to have the Gods on his side. And great costume aside, something about attending a party as a kid, albeit a seemingly supernaturally never aging one, felt like it was asking for trouble. What if the glamour wasn't enough? What if his magic wasn't enough? What if someone saw right through them and realized Billy really was just a kid? If he got blacklisted from the coolest occult party of the year before he even turned eighteen, he would never live it down.

"You telling me that you want the entire place in chaos? That's what the Champion of the Gods would do. Half the party would swarm you for autographs and most likely try to pull you into rooms you do not want to go, and the other half would fall over themselves trying to leave the damn place. Some may even risk breaking the truce to get a piece of you."

"I thought that's what the glamour was for."

"A pretty costume can't hide the fact that he's the Champion of goddamn Magic. His energy alone would blind the lot like a beacon of divine fucking light." John stopped them before they reached a dead end wall practically oozing magical illusion. They kept a good enough distance, though he still lowered his voice. "I know you run with the big superhero league, but his reputation goes farther than you've been flying around in his cape. Near everyone knows about the Ancient Champions and their patron Gods, and half of those know about the Wizard and his lofty seat at the center of all Earthly magic. He's a bloody legend down here, so no shouting for your giant fuckall lightning, alright? You don't need to leave here with a massive target on your forehead."

Well, then. This was news to him.

"It'd be nice if you told me this before, you know, instead of when we are literally walking into the lions den!" Knowing that there could be powerfully magical beings who would want to hurt him… that seemed like important information.

"That's why I told you to stay as a kid, kid," John flicked at his forehead, infuriating and condescending all at once. Which wasn't an uncommon thing, unfortunately.

The response was immediate, Tawny's low rumble, warning John Constantine away.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Trust me, this costume won't give you much trouble," he lead them forward and to Billy is felt like walking through a curtain to see what was covered on the other side. "Still stay within eyesight of me, though and don't accept drinks you haven't seen the bartender make. And even then, keep to what you know. Can't trust the lot of 'em."

Billy knew what to do, thank you very much. He's had talks with his neighbor Candy, and he's heard older teens whisper at foster homes, and him and Freddy have watched teenage party movies. He knows what to do and unlike John, he doesn't go pissing off every magical being he comes across.

He'll be fine!

-x-

He was not fine.

Billy was very much not fine at all.

He felt sick and nauseous and all he wanted to do was throw up, but he couldn't and that made it worse. Thanks to John's quick thinking, he managed to get them out before Billy's glamour wore off. Though, with how fast John was walking, he was practically dragging Billy along, making the sidewalk blur and the street lights flare painfully. 

"That's what you get for accepting a drink from the eternal witch boy," John said, voice teasing. It was salt in Billy's wounds along with everything else right now.

Words seemed to escape him for the moment, so he gagged and spat on the ground at John's feet to let him know how he felt about that.

"Didn't take you for a delinquent," John continued. He sounded more amused and Billy hated it. "Not that I'm judging, mind you. I had my first taste of alcohol when I was ten."

"Didn't know," Billy muffled out. He'd tried beer before, him and Freddy had snuck out with a can each one time. They'd stolen it from one of the foster dad as he lay passed out on the couch. It was the most disgusting thing Billy had ever tasted.

"Yeah, can't blame you there. Mead tastes deceptively sweet. Either way, it was from Klarion and that's where you went wrong. The bloody prat didn't even try to hide himself."

Okay, he really did not need a lecture right now. It was Halloween and he nearly blew their cover and he may have become an ally to Klarion and they almost got found out by Zatanna and all Billy wanted to do was sleep forever.

Still incapable of words, because talking required thinking and that was not going to happen - Billy groaned.

"No, no sleep yet. Gonna need some water and greasy food first, or you'll be feeling even more like shit come morning. Good thing I know a place and they won't ask questions." 

At the mere thought of food, Billy felt his stomach turn and finally threw up. Surprisingly, it made him feel better.

"Hmm. Good thing you don't have monitor duty tomorrow, you're sleeping in. And no patrol, either. Consider it an extended holiday."

Halloween had never been this eventful before, at least at a personal level, but it all honesty, Billy didn't feel an ounce of regret. This was probably his favorite year yet.

Vomiting in the middle of the street excluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tempted to write out the party scene bc Billy and Klarion? What a time.


	3. Playing Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shazam Prompt #3: Dress Up
> 
> Billy has some identity and security issues to work through. Damian is surprisingly very helpful.
> 
> What better setting than a waterpark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still getting through the latest chapter of Work-Life Balance, so enjoy this snippet instead!

Billy knew what others thought of him and Captain Marvel. He wasn't as stupid as they thought.

Of the League that knew, and after the shock had worn, majority had settled on viewing him as a child playing dress up. When they interacted with Captain Marvel, they didn't see him as a hero for pantheons of Gods' will, as an avatar that had experience from dozens of previous lives, or even as someone who had already been in the hero business for several years. Even though he stood at over six feet with a physical build to match Superman's, the others still treated him like he was an undernourished kid in a baggy hoodie, like he was less than their teenage sidekicks.

They didn't understand.

When Billy played dress up, it was never with a cape. He never pretended to be a superhero.

-x-

In hindsight, Billy should have been a bit more aware of his situation from the start. Maybe then he would have caught on a bit earlier and gotten out of this on time.

As it were, however, he was good and trapped. 

Not physically, of course. Because he could always get away if he needed to. But socially…

That would either mean alerting his not-quite-kidnapper of his plan when he said his quick goodbyes, thus giving the man the opportunity to plan another course of action, or that meant Billy unceremoniously leaving without any goodbyes. And Billy liked to think he had enough manners to warrant proper departures for his friends.

Were they his friends?

He liked to think so.

Though they did help orchestrate his kidnapping.

"You are supposed to go into the water, Batson. That is how water parks function. Unless you lack the basic skill of swimming, which I should not be surprised at, since you lack a lot of skills."

Thoughts startled, Billy looked up at Damian who had crossed his arms over his equally dry black top and kept a carefully blank face except for his glare. Or he was just staring really intently. Billy didn't think the other boy had any other masks besides varying degrees of annoyance and murderous.

"Says the guy just as dry as I am," Billy said, holding back a pout and going for unbothered. The kid was a freaking ninja.

Damian scoffed, but did not deny that statement. A short silence fell between them, but it was far from the cold or intensely invasive inspection Billy was subjected to when Damian first learned of Captain Marvel's identity.

Billy liked to think they were starting to get along now. 

"Besides," and here was where Billy's hubris shone, he couldn't resist a good teasing. "How am I supposed to relax when I've been kidnapped?"

Damian's glare, if possible, became even more intense at Billy's cheeky smile. Good thing Robin couldn't shoot lasers. "It's your own fault for not being vigilant of your surroundings. And this is hardly a kidnapping. You willing joined us."

At that, Billy really did pout. "It's not really willing if I'm shoved into a jet and led to believe it's an important mission."

The eyebrow raise spoke volumes of how lousy an excuse Damian thought of that. A trait he probably learned from Bruce. And Billy could not help but laugh. Despite his masks, Damian could be very expressive with little effort, and often showed more than he wanted to. 

Or maybe it was just what Billy picked up on. 

He was good at reading people, he knew that. It helped that one of his favorite pastimes was people watching. With a quick glance, Billy noted the locations of everyone else. Their life energies were easy to find in the large crowded indoor waterpark - all of them bright and flaring and something Billy pushed himself to memorize.

"I guess there are worse places to be fake kidnapped, though."

Koriand'r was easy to spot, her energy constantly blazing, but invitingly warm, in the corner of his periphery. She was currently enjoying the hot tub with Dick and Roy. Somewhere at the lazy river, Jason was enjoying his giant margarita. Connor was also easy to find, his energy similar to Clark's. Him and Tim were going for their fifth ride down the giant tube slide. Clark had managed to convince Bruce to join him at the barside pool, both of them saturated, both of them carrying mantles everyone knew and believed in. 

(Belief was a powerful kind of energy, when channeled properly. Though, Billy didn't think either of them really knew about all that. Not when they had their own strengths.)

This was probably the safest place to be on Earth, in the whole Galaxy, and yet…

And yet.

"Okay, well, I'll at least take a look at everything first," he said, finally moving off his beach chair at the poolside. 

Bruce had rented the cabin rooms in the main pool area for everyone, so as to not worry about scrounging for seating. But still, Billy worried. What if someone took their stuff? It seemed highly unlikely, but one could never be too sure. Not that Billy doubted Clark and Bruce to take care of everything, to have been extra prepared with security or whatever. They were keeping aware of everyone even now, but…

Being willingly barefoot on the wet ground was a new thing. Billy had just been gifted the sandals currently under his chair, but they still felt odd on his feet. Unsecure and flimsy. He was never one for sandals anyway, when he had a cheap and sturdy pair of sneakers to last him. The swim trunks, as well, were new and strange, but he couldn't do much about that since he didn't have anything else. Well, nothing that was already his. There were clothes that fit suspiciously well folded in the drawer of the hotel room he was sharing with Damian. The only thing originally his was the white t-shirt he was currently wearing.

Since he could not very easily walk around bare chested without raising alarms. People tended to notice large scars on children. Especially when those people were concerned heroes and they hadn't yet been told about it.

"You've patrolled the parameters several times already," and Billy was sort of surprised Damian had followed, had stuck around this long. Though he was less surprised at the other boy's perceptiveness. "Do you doubt my father's preparation for our staying here?" 

That was more an accusation than a question. Billy had noted the other boy's curious defensiveness when it came to his Bat-family, something he understood very well, though he doubted Damian was entirely aware of it, or that he wanted to be aware of it. Still, Billy didn't rise to the bait. 

"Of course not," his tone edged on lighthearted and exasperated. It was easier to tell others what they wanted to hear than to explain everything that went on with his thought process, anyway. "Besides, we're in a room full of superheroes. I'm not _patrolling_, I'm…_surveying_."

That was a lie. 

Damian was right, after all. Billy wasn't looking at the rides or the lounging spots, or seeking out social interactions - he was patrolling. He needed to ensure the area was safe, because yes, Superman could punch a bad guy through the roof, and Batman probably had every protocol prepared on hand, but just in case…

What if someone had violent intentions and hurt a civilian? What if a magical attack was brewing? What if a curse was placed on them all? What if he was called away, if Captain Marvel was needed to save the day? There were so many things that could happen while they enjoyed their vacation.

So many things could go wrong if Billy let his guard down, if he prioritized himself over his duty as Marvel, over the protection of others.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?" Billy looked back at Damian. The boy looked more grumpy than he had several minutes ago, like he did not follow Billy around of his own choosing.

There was a shriek in the distance and Billy immediately turned his head.

Damian grumbled in a language Billy did not catch, but knew Captain Marvel would have.

Billy focused back onto him after confirming it was just some kids on the raft slide. 

Maybe it was the harsh smell of chlorine or the absolute relaxation on everyone's faces, maybe it was the shorts that felt unfamiliar or the fact he couldn't see all exits from one spot. It was like an itch he couldn't help but scratch, but it only got worse. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong.

"Come," Damian demanded, walking away and fully expecting Billy to follow. 

He did not.

"You cannot stop yourself from being unnecessary, you might as well do it effectively."

That still did not persuade Billy to follow.

"I'm saying I know where the best place in this room is! You can see the majority of the entrances and exits, except for the ones closest to Kent and my father."

What did that have to do with--

"Oh," Billy followed.

"The chances of us being attacked are incredibly slim, and of those chances my father and I are rightfully prepared. I admit that even Kent has his uses." This was the most Damian had ever spoken to Billy. And Bruce wasn't even forcing him to. "But there is no such thing as being overly prepared."

With that, Damian stopped talking and Billy realized what was happening. Teasing and snark aside - since that was probably all that the other boy knew about communication with peers - Damian's actions spoke plenty. He had been watching Billy for some time now, to the point where Billy found it incredibly creepy and asked Bruce to tone it down. So, really it should not be a surprise that Damian somewhat knew Billy, or had formed an idea of who Billy was. 

Afterall, with his secret out, Billy had lessened his guard around the others, had stopped pretending to be the naive and innocent child they all believed him to be. The act helped with civilians, but with other heroes it was more of a hindrance. Billy did not need or want them treating him like he was helpless or incapable, like he was playing superhero dress up.

This was not a game to him

But still, it didn't seem to change their opinions much. In fact, it made some of them more overly concerned to the point where Billy had to figure out an even ground. He often struggled with their perceptions of him, with what version of himself to be around them.

By this point, Damian may have seen a lot more iterations and nuances of Billy Batson than many others. Bruce, too, if Billy were honest. All of it left a sort of reactionary dread in his gut. Being realized so deeply, being known so well - it was mortifying.

(It was cleansing, almost refreshing - like finally scrubbing a festering wound clean.)

"This will do. It's the best vantage point without climbing to the very top, which I advise against. My father will get upset and make us climb down," Damian said, experience clear.

The location they finally stopped at was the center point of the large room - a giant playset tower with the lazy river around it, like a moat. There were bridges and slides and mini waterfalls and stationary super soakers. Children of various ages ran past them in uncontainable joy, some could even be their own age. 

Billy could not remember ever being so young. He didn't think Damian could either.

"Choose a station," Damian said as he stood by a posting and pumped the soaker up.

"What for?" Billy asked, though he still picked one nearby and copied the motions. It seemed like Damian knew what he was doing (though he often projected that way).

"So we can shoot at Todd when he passes by, of course." 

And just in that moment Jason leisurely floated by, lounging on a tube in the moat and sipping from his margarita. Until a spray of water blasted him in the face. 

"Uh. Damian? You sure that was-" 

He was gone.

Jason was stomping his way over through the water, slushie staining his own shirt and dripping from his hair. "Billy!"

Billy ran. "Oh shoot! Damian!"

"Don't be so slow, Batson."

"Get back here, you little shits!"

It wasn't until much later, after he had been dunked into the pool and made to play chicken atop of Jason's shoulders against Damian and Dick, after he had ridden the giant raft down the slide with Connor and Tim, after he had been lead to the deep end of the wave pool and carefully held onto by Kori and Roy, that Billy realized the other boy's clever ploy.

Even if he did not know exactly _who_ to be around the others, even if they did not understand how Billy and Marvel existed together and separately - he could still be their friend. That was not something he needed to pretend at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy the potential bumpy road to Friendship that Damian and Billy have. Its great :)
> 
> 1) Yes, Damian has a shirt because Scars on a Child is Frowned Upon, and Jason has a shirt because autopsy scars catch a lot of attention.  
2) I didnt write in Jon and I dont know if I will bc idk who he is really??  
3) Alfred and Lois are enjoying relaxing massages somewhere  
Hope yall enjoyed it!


	4. Recreation Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy faces his greatest challenge yet - boredom.
> 
> Told in short snippets that swap between the linear narrative and his broadcasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This piece is specifically for the Shazine / Shazam Zine :)

“Hey there, Fawcett City! It is currently, uhhhh, two-thirty at night, and you’re tuning into Wiz Kid hour! I don’t actually think anyone is listening in, but here we go. I have a lot to cover, so…

First bit of info for tonight is about the charity event over at the Soup Kitchen in three weeks. Ya know, the one on Division? They’re having a bit of a potluck bake sale market thing. I’m not sure how it all works, but if you call or go on over and ask Gordan at the front what’s going on, he’ll help you. I’ve heard wind that even the Cap is gonna be there, so check it out! And if you have free time and effort, volunteers are always welcomed.

Okay, so, next…there was, um, so ya’ll remember that giant mecha Captain Marvel took down this past week? The newest creation by Mister Mind, and like, shocker, I know. It wasn’t exactly the most original piece, I mean, it looked like an ugly combo of the last two machines that Cap tore apart, but anyway… I wanna talk about what the supervillain was after. 

It kinda slipped a few of the other news’ details, especially Whiz Radio’s take on it, but our mayor had been planning on a uh, _special_ museum exhibit of a bunch of rare and wanted materials. Totally on the down-low. VIP only access for the wealthy and infamous—I mean, famous. But, I mean, c’mon. What did this guy think would happen when word got out? Because we all know that word would’ve gotten out. Like, c’mon!

My… let’s call ‘em sources said there was an off-world and very volatile metal that was in transit that day. Most likely what Mister Mind was after. I don’t know about y’all, but I certainly don’t like the idea of dangerous metal going past our homes without at least the authorities or even Captain Marvel knowing. Apparently, these schmucks thought that just because a bunch of rich snobs and their sellers were planning the fancy party and fine combing through the guest list, that they didn’t need to take all necessary safety precautions. 

Honestly, what a bunch of elitist—!”

-

At the ripe ol’ age of fourteen, Billy Batson refused to believe he was hitting such a milestone as a midlife crisis. 

See, midlife crises were for older people that had lived their lives and found themselves settled down so well they couldn’t really move much. It was for folks that worked for years and years and then stopped long enough to look around and realize they needed a hobby. It was for folks triple his age and with double his life experiences, with kids of their own that had already left home. 

Basically, anybody but Billy.

He couldn’t be having a midlife crisis because he was neither in the middle of his life, nor did he have time for introspective crises. 

If he had that, it would mean that he was bored. 

And now that – that was a crazy thought.

How on Earth, or anywhere in this known and unknown Universe and its many planes of reality, could Billy Batson be bored? 

For one, he was nearly a fulltime freakin’ superhero. Between patrolling Fawcett City and attending Justice League meetings and missions, and taking on monitor duty and helping train new recruits, Captain Marvel was quite the busy guy. That wasn’t even including his occasional trysts about the supernatural or magical community. For the most part, Billy’s days were filled with about eighty percent superhero business. And it wasn’t any higher than that because while he had definitely patrolled more hours in his earlier years, he also now had a more complicated schedule to uphold. 

Which brought on the second load of work Billy had - schooling. After his identity was revealed and his teammates learned that their powerhouse of a Champion was actually some homeless kid - let’s just say everything went into an upheaval for a while. It took some time for everyone to come around, for the dust to settle and for business to resume as it had. A long while. And even then, things were different. Billy didn’t want to even think about the weeks and months following his reveal, but needless to say there had been some very intense stand offs. As much as he had protested the others’ involvement in his personal life on all fronts, he couldn’t refute their arguments that Billy needed to pick back up on his education. He had tried, don’t get him wrong. But when Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Cyborg, and every other main Leaguer confronted him on the issue… Well, at least he got them to compromise. 

There was no way Billy was going back to regular public school with kids his own age. He had missed so much schooling by then, that he wouldn’t be able to keep up. Then again, he couldn’t be in a lower grade either. The gaps in his education were all over the place, and if he went to school full time, he would not be able to continue on as Captain Marvel. That was not an option for him. So, there was a compromise. Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen had gotten together and hired tutors for Billy, people that wouldn’t question who Billy was to his benefactors or why he was without constant supervision or why he was so far behind on his learning. Diana had vehemently volunteered herself to be Billy’s language tutor. She insisted on helping with his reading and writing, as well as with any other languages he wanted to learn. Billy couldn’t really say no to her. Nor would he deny Victor the sick pleasure of trying to teach Billy computers. 

(Jokes on Victor. Magic and technology got along like a metal rod in a lightning storm. Which was to say, it ended poorly and usually some electronic piece smoking beyond repair.)

The third reason that Billy could not consider the possibility of being bored, was that he had so many amazing and interesting friends. If he wanted, he could fly on over to the Wayne Manor in Gotham and spend an entire weekend with any and all of the Bat Family. Billy could ask Clark if he could spend a Saturday afternoon with him and his Ma at the Kent farm and help tend to some of the animals. Diana always had a new worldly tour in mind to show him around. Constantine and Zatanna had no short supply of magical tricks and tomes they would want him to study. Victor had the best videogame and theater setup probably in the entire world.

Who the hell was Billy to ever say he was bored?

And yet…

And yet, it was becoming more and more frequent as the weeks went by. The despondent emptiness he felt crept up on him when he stood in the middle of his apartment without a single thing to keep himself occupied. Captain Marvel wasn’t needed around Fawcett City or the Watchtower. His apartment was unusually tidy after his cleaning spree several days ago when this same problem had overtaken him. It was three at night and he did not want to bother any of his friends were they sleeping or should be sleeping, simply because he could not fall asleep himself.

So, there he was.

Standing about with nothing to do and an encroaching contemplation about his unproductive existence in a world that had no use for him if he were having ungracious thoughts about being bored.

Needless to say, it was not a good night for Billy.

-

“Okay, Fawcett, so I just had the strangest encounter, at least for this past month, and trust me, that is saying something.

Anyway, so I’m at the twenty-four hour grocery store on Market Avenue, ya know, the one with the broken slurpy machine that they never get around to fixing. It was a bit before midnight, nothing really outta the ordinary, I was getting some end of the day hotdogs before they got tossed and replaced with a fresh batch – and just an FYI, if you’re looking for a quick and cheap greasy food, go for them. They’re under a dollar. But anyway, I was on my way out and passing the alley next to it. 

Well… it’s not really an alley. Too narrow for anything but trash. I mean, if a real small kid was determined they could probably shimmy through it, but anyway, it’s a dark bit of space just right there and right when I’m passing, I hear a sound. Like, a sort of hissing sound, but not from a pipe or a cat or anything, but like when you hear someone hissing to get your attention. Loud enough for you to hear and no one else. I didn’t really know what it was at first, so I stopped. You hear a strange noise, you stop and investigate it. No brainer. But when I looked over into the darkness, I heard it again. A definite short hiss. After a silent moment of being very confused, I did what came to mind first.

Uh. I answered it.

I know, I know. That was stupid of me. But, it was startling! Nothing else crossed my mind and I was taught to be polite, so I answered it with a ‘Can I help you?’ There wasn’t a reply for a long while and I thought I was imaging things. Like, maybe it was a cat or someone’s thrown away walk talkie or something. But then, when I was gonna walk away it talked. Well, more like a mumble. I couldn’t tell right away, so I leaned further in – stupid, I know – and asked again.

Finally, it said in a weird, raspy voice: _‘Hungry’_

And well, lemme tell y’all right now that if you doubt that our city has any freaky supernatural phenomena—”

-

“Dude, full offense, but you look like shit,” Victor said when he answered his door, though he still stepped aside to allow Billy to shuffle his sorry butt inside. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Billy hummed a noncommittal response.

No, no he did not get any sleep last night.

He spent the entire time rearranging his bedroom, only to move everything back. Then, he took an hour long jaunt around the city in case Captain Marvel was needed anywhere, only to be stopped by a patrolling police officer and questioned why some punk teenager was stalking around at night. It took nearly forty minutes to convince the officer to let Billy go, that really, truly, he was only going for a walk, promise.

By the time the sun was up Billy had to get ready for a his study session that morning, and by the time that was done with – which took entirely too long for him to finish, he was ashamed to admit – Marvel had an afternoon patrol around before flying over to Detroit to hang with Victor.

He questioned that last choice, since his supposed friend was being a real jerk.

“Don’t give me that look,” Victor snipped as he none too gently pushed Billy over onto the couch. “I’m getting grey hairs because of you. I reserve the right to nag.”

The sour look did not diminish on Billy’s face, but he also did not move from the position he sprawled out in. See, life got complicated when he gained super friends that cared about his wellbeing.

(He loved it. Really, he did. But Gods, he was so tired.)

There was shifting weight on the couch as Victor sat down. Moments of silence passed and Billy waited for the other shoe to drop, for the questions to continue. When nothing more was said, and the suspense of it all was eating away at him, because Victor had learned the irritating skill of a Disappointed but Patient Silence, Billy finally cracked.

“I think I’m having, like, a midlife crisis,” he said, confession muffled into his arm that he had thrown over his face.

“You’re fourteen.”

An indignant, but wholly agreeing, noise escaped him. “I know.”

Victor rolled his eyes – or, at least, that was totally what Billy expected him to do, he could feel it, “Why do you think you’re having a midlife crisis?”

There was a pause. Billy was loath to admit the truth. “Because I’m bored.”

“Dude,” Victor began with a poorly concealed snicker, “How are you bored?”

“I don’t know!” Billy threw his arm off his face and sighed. He tried to find the words to describe what was wrong, especially when there wasn’t necessarily anything that was. “Okay, so I have free time. Actual, free time. And, I don’t know, it makes me all anxious and wired and stuff.” He moved to sit up, then slouched over his knees as he sat cross legged. “I could be doing anything, and we both know there is so much to do, but like, I can’t really do any of that at like, dinner time or midnight, ya know.”

Victor shot him a contemplating look, and Billy tried hard not to notice the concern, the pity. “So… do something at home?”

When he shrugged it was with his whole upper body, more emphasized than he aimed for, and not for the first time did Billy feel weird in his own body. Growth spurts hurt, and being a teenager was hard. “I mean, I cleaned my place up real well. I even packed lunches for the week.”

“That it?”

“Well, there’s only so many times I can patrol around without makin’ civilians think there’s something wrong. And I can’t ask for more monitor duty shifts. Clark and Bruce restricted me to two per week. The last time I even tried to go the Tower to, like, find some work to do, J’onn literally marched me back. It was embarrassing, dude.” Billy scrubbed a hand down his face. His eyeballs ached and that seemed to pulse to the back of his skull in the form of a headache. 

“You could read a book.”

“I’m already ahead on my studies.”

“No,” Victor sighed. He looked like he was choosing his words carefully and that got Billy’s attention. “No, I mean, like, you could just read. Not for school or for Marvel or anything. Just… for fun?”

Billy stared at him hard for a moment.

“Or you could browse the internet, join an online game? Hell, dude, take up baking or knitting, even.”

He waited a second to see if Victor was joking, but the earnestness on his face told Billy no, he was very serious. “What the heck are you talking about?”

“Okay, okay, follow along with me here,” Victor shifted in his seat, leaning forward with his hands moving as he spoke. He really was being sincere about this. “You think you are having a midlife crisis because at some point in the night between dinner time and sleep, you get restless and bored—”

“I’m not bore—!”

“Shush. You get restless and bored because - and this is important you understand this - because you don’t have a hobby to keep yourself occupied.” Victor paused at his realization.

That… pretty much summed up his entire ordeal, yeah.

Billy had never been so insulted in his life.

“But I already have so much to do,” Billy said, trying very hard not to sound like his was whining. “Things and stuff! I have things and stuff, Vic!”

“Bills, I’m not talkin’ about work or school stuff. I literally mean, you need to do something small and fun and like, entirely for yourself here. Don’t make a face at me, I’m serious. You do a lot, I get that. But, none of that is down time for you. Something that helps take the edge off. Something you enjoy.”

“I enjoy helping people.”

Victor tilted his head back onto the couch and sighed up to the Heavens, “This is gonna be a long night.”

-

“Hey Fawcett, Wiz Kid here! Time is ten on the dot, and yeah, it’s a bit earlier than I usually air, but oh man, I got some words for you.

Okay, first, if you have a chance to pop by at the downtown square next Friday, there will be a rally taking place around eleven AM and going through the afternoon. I heard from the local scene that it’s to bring awareness on halfway house between the old record shop and music venue. Sources said that there’s been some, uhhh…unofficial talk about shutting it down and building some kinda high class eatery or something there. Trying to _‘drive up taxes and drive out ruffians’,_ is how folks put it.

They said the same thing happened north of the river, too, gradually and then all at once. Suddenly folks couldn’t afford their apartments and the stores only served for, like certain people and there were more fancy restaurants than the family owned stores and cafes and everyone was basically getting kicked out. 

It really sucks and I wanna help, so to anyone listening – go out and support each other! Protect each other! Fight for your fellow Fawcettites! We can’t leave the saving only to the superheroes, ya know!

Now, that aside, completely unrelated, I wanna talk about how to nab street signs and some of the best spots to practice! Coincidentally, the P on the police department building is already gone, so you may wanna avoid that area for a few days—"

-

It had, in fact, been a long night. 

Once Billy had accepted the possibility that he was bored and he considered picking up something as benign and simple as a hobby, him and Victor had spent the rest of the night collaborating ideas on what he could do. There were the obvious ones – like reading and writing, but Billy quickly ruled those out. He does enough of that for his studies, thank you. Victor half heartedly suggested instrument or dance lessons, and while Billy mulled those over a bit more seriously, he didn’t think his apartment complex neighbors would appreciate his introductory steps into the arts. Knitting was pretty high on his list, until he realized he would rather donate any monetary equivalent for the materials to the local shelters. A lot of hobbies that required a lot of time and equipment didn’t really suit what he was looking for anyway. The remaining options just did not seem productive enough.

“The point ain’t to be productive. It’s to fill the time and keep you busy,” Victor had said.

“I know that, but if I’m not doing something good for others, then what’s the point?”

“Man, there is so much to unpack with that sentence.”

They did not get into the implications behind what Billy meant, and for that he was relieved. Any further digging into his psyche he would rather hold off until after this current crisis was solved, and when he could contact Harley about it. One problem at a time, please.

In the end, it was by happenstance that they came across an answer. 

Their discussion through the night had eventually involved them playing videogames with music on in the background. Victor tended to enjoy a lot of things happening at once, and Billy had a knack for ignoring stimuli he didn’t need to worry about. But at some point, when neither of them spoken for several minutes, he had noticed something different. The music had changed to a station that had someone talking a bunch of nonsense about computers and data.

The information wasn’t important, but the voice struck him somehow – the intonations and the well placed sarcasm oddly familiar.

“Who is this?” Billy had asked.

Victor gave a lopsided smile, “Tim. He’s been putting out bimonthly podcasts for awhile now. Well, him and Conner, really. Kon got wind of Luthor Corp putting out some tech podcast, and hedged Tim that he could make a better one. Really, it’s just them talkin’ about all the ways to bypass Luthor tech—What’s that face for?”

“What the hell is a podcast?”

And that was that. 

Victor spent the rest of the night explaining the wonders of this internet entertainment and Billy felt a spark reignite from within. 

See, Billy always enjoyed the radio. More so than television, actually. All his usual haunts had radios accessible, playing music or the news or some broadcast or another. Even for a modestly populated city like Fawcett, there was a decent amount of stations. There was something for everyone. Whiz Radio was the only broadcast network in town, and when asked about what he wanted to do for a civilian career when he grows up, Billy toyed with the idea of being a reporter for them. Like Lois Lane or Iris West-Allen, except on the radio. 

It was a fun idea to toss around. Along with the concept of being anything besides a superhero.  
But just like with a lot of things, Billy realized that getting on air meant having experience, having connections. Neither of which he had. Especially not at his age, not with his schedule. So, the idea was quickly buried until now. 

People were putting themselves out there, broadcasting whatever they pleased for anyone to listen. Stories or news or opinions or educational segments or literally just recording themselves and their friends goofing off – no matter what it was, there was probably a podcast for it. It reminded Billy of his childish idea of being on the radio.

The moment he voiced his interest Victor took it and ran. It wasn’t long after that night that Billy had found himself with equipment set up in his home, able to transmit on air whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. With personal help from the tech genius himself, no tracing could be done to locate him and with the voice distortion set on his microphone he wasn’t at risk of being randomly being found out on the street.

Not that Billy expected that to be an issue. After all, this was going to be a sometimes gig. Something to do in the middle of the night to help him unwind, for him to talk about everything he wanted to spill but never had a convenient chance to do so without bothering someone else about it. 

No, this – this was perfect. 

-

After the equipment was set up, with help from Victor of course, and a voice distorter implemented, it only took several days before Billy finally used his new radio broadcasting channel. 

He had gone out the previous day as Captain Marvel on a mission off world that took longer than usual. When the team had returned, it was just after five in the morning, and they still had to write their reports. By the time it was eight, Billy was back at Fawcett with a checklist of tasks he had to complete before returning home. It just the usual – grocery shopping and cleaning and ensuring civilians were taken care of as needed. When he finally was able to relax and rest it was dinner time, though he didn’t feel like eating. 

Something hummed within him – restless energy clashing with exhaustion that was creeping its way through his entire body. There was still so much out there he could be doing, so many people he could be helping. But when he was given orders to rest for the next two days, Billy knew better than to try to sneak around that. 

For all intents and purposes, he was grounded.

So, after taking a moment from pacing him apartment, Billy remembered the solution he had found to this very problem. Thanks to the generosity of one Bruce Wayne and a surprisingly short amount of wait time as the entire block’s worth of apartment complexes were rebuilt for its current residents, Billy now had a home that not only had a functioning kitchen and running hot water, but entirely separate rooms to designate for sleeping and studying. His study room had all his books, a desk, his computer – the whole works. So, it was a perfect place to set up the broadcasting equipment. 

After adjusting his headphones and going through the instructions Victor had left him on how to use his new tech, Billy hesitantly began his first transmission.

“Uhh, hello? Can anyone hear me?” He checked the board before him, all the right lights were green and no weird feedback shrieked in his ears. Everything was probably working well. “Okay, um. Hey there, to uh, anyone who is listening. Which is probably no one. This is my first time doing this, so um, sorry it’s—I’m still getting used to this. Whatever this is. I mean, like, I know this is the radio and all, and I know what others sound like when they talk, like what they report on and talk about and stuff, but uh… Yeah, I’m just nervous I guess. Should I be talking about something important? Oh Gods, I shoulda planned this better, huh. Umm, okay, well uhh… Hold on…” 

What the hell was he supposed to talk about? He couldn’t really report on anything Captain Marvel has done, at least not anything that wasn’t already public. That included Justice League stuff, too. The only information he had at his disposal was that of Billy Batson, and that… well. It was something at least.

“Okay, okay. So, uh. First thing’s first, I guess I’m doing this because… it’s something to do. And believe me, I know how totally weak that sounds. I mean, I could literally be doing anything else, but here I am stuck here talking about nothing to folks who aren’t there. But, I guess if there was anything else for me to do I would be doing it. 

I recently got back home from a… an out of town trip. Helping some others out. It was fine, you know. Nothing we couldn’t handle, and it felt good to help them. I love helping others. Giving them hope, comfort, support. I don’t know who I’d be if I couldn’t at least do that. But the thing is, lately I’ve been… I don’t know. After everything’s been said and done and I get back home, I just… I feel restless. And I hate it. It’s like, I’m bored when I have no right to be. But more than that, the uh, the good feeling I get, the warmth and the, the satisfaction of doing a job well done, see, it doesn’t last. Not as long as it used to. I get home and I stare around this empty place and I feel… lost.”

Billy paused. His heart had picked up, and he needed a moment to calm it down. To breathe. He hadn’t realized he had more to say about this, that this was still even bothering him.

“My friend told me I needed a hobby when I said I felt like I was having a mid-life crisis,” Billy laughed. “I don’t know if this will help, I mean, I feel like I’m using this as a journal or something. But, well, since no one is listening…” He took a breath and with its release, felt the words tumble out of his mouth. “For as long as I can remember I’ve needed to be useful. If I don’t have a use for someone, anyone, then what’s the point of keeping me around? As much as I love helping others, that feels like sorta the hard truth of it. You gotta be useful or you won’t be noticed, and once you’re done, you’ll get tossed aside. And I guess… I built myself up around that. I was always taught to be good, you know. Be good and good will follow. And I believe that with my whole heart. But if I’m not good for others… I guess that’s why I can’t just stand by and let others get hurt. I can’t not be doing anything. What good am I then?”

Gods, he would not hear the end of it if Bruce or Clark, or heck, anyone really, heard any of this. He’d be made to see a counselor, probably have official sessions with Harley. They would cut back on his League time, maybe even send someone to Fawcett. He’d be treated with kiddie gloves, be forced to have training wheels. 

The very thought made Billy’s stomach twist.

He could handle this. He had to.

“Besides,” a parody of a laugh escaped him, “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

No, no he did not. Billy had learned that being the Champion of Magic came with a lot more fine print rules than he realized. After everything that went down with Black Adam… let’s say Billy had a lot more empathy for the guy than he had realized.

“There are forces at play out there, forces a lot of folks aren’t even aware of. Rules we follow because they are so tied up into our existences we never even think about them, about disobeying them. They’re just there. There’s a lot out there people don’t even realize. And when they do they’ll feel powerless, like nothing they did was ever their choice, but that’s not true. Even if you see a werewolf for the first time or a demon or power magics, they aren’t the only forceful impact on this world. Regular people have just as much power…” Billy paused. He wondered if he was even allowed to talk about magic in public, about the creatures that stalk the night, about the beings that walk between realities and amongst humans. “I guess I’ll save that for another time. What I’m trying to say is that yeah, there’s a lot of weird stuff out there, and yeah, it can feel like sometimes our hands are being forced, but still, we shouldn’t stop trying. We gotta move, and if others are slowing down or stopping, it’s up to us to lend them a hand.”

No matter how small an effort, or quick the time – every sincerity helps. And while Victor had told him to do something fun, something relaxing and totally for himself, Billy couldn’t. It just wasn’t in him. He’d always be trying, with or without the Gods and their power, and maybe this…

Maybe this could help. 

“I don’t know what else I’ll be talking about or when I’ll be on, exactly either, but next time I’ll have something special for you, Fawcett City. There’s a lot going on out there, and I want you to know about it. So, until then, I guess…”

Oh, he would need a name, if he was planning on doing this for real, huh? If Billy wanted to be another source of news and information, people had to know him by something, right? But he couldn’t give out his real name. And he certainly couldn’t give out Marvel’s…

“Wiz Kid signing off.”

-

“How do you work this damned thing?”

“Klar, please don’t break that, you know how tech is with—”

“I’m not stupid! Oh, look it’s glowing green!”

There was a very heavy, very congested sigh. “Then it’s on.”

“You shouldn’t be up, anyway, you know. Being sick when I want to come visit, it’s quite rude. You need to rest and get well quickly.”

“Can’t help that. Hold on, lemme just—Okay. There. Now you can talk.”

“Really?”

“Well, you’re here and I do feel bad for not being a good host—”

“How generous of you.”

“Shush. And I can’t really talk a whole lot right now.” Which was fair. The more this conversation went on, the raspier he sounded. “So, I guess if there’s anything you wanna talk about to a bunch of strangers listening in…”

“Oh! Oh, absolutely! You make yourself comfortable, you look like you’re about to fall over. Here, Teekl will keep you company. I have a wicked story to tell. You said others are listening in, correct?”

“Eh? Maybe. The transmission is going, others could be listening in.”

“Well, we’ll just assume there is. They wouldn’t want to miss this. I’m great at telling stories.”

There was a chuckle followed by a racking cough. “Alright. Well, hey Fawcett. Wiz Kid here, and as you can tell, I’m not doing so hot. My friend… uh, what do you wanna be called?”

“Klarion, the great Witch Boy. There’s nothing else to call me, of course!”

“Of course. Uh, well, Klarion is a very special guest, and he has a story to tell?”

“May I start? Good. Alright, now this occurred a fortnight ago when Teekl and I were wandering through the west coast. The moon was full and aglow in a mystical red, and the witching hour was upon us—Oh, don’t give me that look, we were only having fun. No trouble making, I promise… That is until trouble found us.”

“Of course it did.”

“Hush. The night was at its peak and energy was thick in the air when suddenly we vanished.”

“Vanished?”

“We were taken.”

“Taken? Like, someone kidnapped you? How could anyone—?”

“Hush! Anyway, as I said, we were taken. One moment we were enjoying the brisk night air and the next we were suffocating in a cramped room with an overabundance of sandalwood and dragon’s blood incense burning all around us. Archaic symbols were etched upon the floor, sacrifices laid out on its significant points. The echoing chants that we were greeted with swelled in crescendo as dark forms stepped forward from the shadows and into the candlelight—”

“Hold on, hold on. Are you telling me you were _summoned_? Like, for realsies summoned with a ritual circle? Oh my Gods!” Among the raucous laughter brought on another fit of coughing.

“Way to ruin the mood, _Wiz Kid._”

“Okay, sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… You! Klarion! Freakin’ summoned like you’re some, some regular two-bit demon or something!”

“Well, since you want all the answers now instead of waiting… It was an accident.”

The laughter returned, with more wheezing than before.

“You were, were— on accident? How? Were they, like, some amateur occultists who couldn’t get their words right or—” There was a gasp. “No! No way!”

“Teekl and I are leaving.”

“No, no! C’mon, Klar! I’m sorry! Come back—”

-

Billy didn’t think much about his new radio hobby. It had been several months since Victor help him set it up, and since then he had only broadcasted less than a dozen times. He didn’t have time to do it every night, but this was only to fill in the gaps when he could. Nothing had really changed outside of taking on this new interest. It certainly helped his restless nights, and aside from that he did not pay it much mind.

That is, until Cyborg saddled up next to him during monitor duty one night, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. It was a look that did not bode well for either Billy or Marvel.

“What.” Marvel said, less a question and more a suspicious demand.

“Remember when I said to pick a relaxing hobby? Something fun?” He asked, absolutely leading Marvel on.

“Yes?” Marvel replied, drawing out the sound.

“Okay, and remember when I hooked up that voice distorter so you wouldn’t be recognized so easily? So you could remain anonymous and low-key?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Well, tell that to Whiz Radio.”

“What—?"

Cyborg pressed a button on the control panel before them. Immediately, a slew of social media posts filled the screen – comments online about a new radio broadcast from Fawcett City that mysteriously started up. They all ranged from vague interest to full blown conspiracy theories. It was hectic. No one knew where this independent broadcast was coming from, which station or organization it was affiliated with, if the rants and stories that spoke about supernatural occurrences were real or if it was all part of an ongoing fictional storyline. The comments leaning towards factual kept bringing up the transmission in which one Klarion Bleak had guest starred. That had stirred the pot quite a bit. 

Hell, with the complete lack of social media presence and network connection, no one even knew who it was hosted by – the only thing they knew was the person’s name: Wiz Kid. 

Some speculated that choice of name, and the intermittent opinion pieces about other news sources, attributed to its parody. That this was a direct mockery of Whiz Radio. Cyborg pressed another button and more screenshots came up - news anchors and bloggers from Whiz Radio joining in on the conversation, on the conspiracy of it all.

“Oh wow,” Marvel gasped.

“Yeah, oh shit is right, dude. The hashtags _‘Fawcett City Cryptid’_ and _‘Wiz Kid Radio’_ have been trending in the Midwest area for the last three days.”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

“It means you’re getting a lot more attention than you probably wanted with this.”

Aw, crap.

-

“—and while the city counsel decides on whether or not to keep their unofficial demolition plans for the halfway house, please continue to show community support! The Fawcett City Fangs on the East side are not letting up on their rallies, so if you want to be included in the protests, check out—”

_THUD! THUD! THUD!_

There was a distant banging in the background. Loud enough that the equipment picked it up. 

“Hold on folks, I think someone is trying to—”

“Pick up your mirror right this instant, you little shit!”

“Uhhh…”

A moment of silence passed before the next round of banging resumed.

From the same distance, the conversation picked up. “John? What are you—?”

“Mind telling me what the blazes is goin’ on over there? Hmm? You being buddies with bloody Klarion now?”

“Oh my Gods!”

“Don’t you bring them into this. I told you to stay away from that prick, didn’t I?”

“John, it was just—”

“No, no no no. I don’t want any excuses. You know how I had to hear about this? Fuckin’ Jason Blood told me! The Eternal Witch Boy hosting a radio show with someone callin’ himself the _Wiz Kid_!”

“Oh! Mister Blood listens to my show?” The voices draw closer to the microphone again. “Hi, Mister Blood!”

“Yeah, him and a good chunk of the bloody occult scene. But that’s not my point—”

“Klarion is fine, John. He needs friends just like anyone else. Besides, he tells some pretty good stories.”

“He tells—! Oh, really? Well, isn’t that just peachy fuckin’ keen! You soft hearted—”

“Hey, folks,” said the host, directly to any audience still listening in. “This is gonna take a while, so uhh…” Yelling was still heard in the background. “Wiz Kid signing off.”

-

“Marvel, a word.” Batman did not so much request as demanded. He kept walking on by, fully excepting Captain Marvel to follow no matter the trepidation.

When he led them into a meeting room and had not only shut, but locked the door, did Billy’s nerves begin to truly shake.

(But not Marvel’s. Never Marvel’s.)

“Uhh, did I do something wrong?” Marvel asked, able to quell Billy’s innate tick to fidget.  
Batman sighed as he pushed back his hood. Suddenly, Bruce stood before him – tired dad extraordinaire. “Billy, we need to talk about your radio show.”

Marvel’s shoulders fell in relief. “Oh! Oh, okay. I thought—Okay, so I’m not in trouble.”

He was given the Batman stare, just as effective without the cowl.

“Or maybe I am.”

“I’m not here to tell you to stop. This project clearly means a lot to you and can be very beneficial. However, I am imploring you to be more cautious with the information you give out.”

“But…I mean, Cyborg hooked up a voice distorter! I never use my real name or anything! No one knows who I am or can even trace the signal anywhere.”

“Anyone with enough determination can sort out that you’re a young adult, that you’re well versed in magic and the occult. And from recent broadcasts, know that you have connections to both Klarion and John Constantine. If they dug deeper, they would find—”

Marvel groaned aloud and crossed his arms across his chest, not even caring how childish he sounded. “Okay, okay! I get it! I’ll be more careful with who’s on my show and what we say.”

A small upturn at the corner of Bruce’s mouth showed his approval. Billy would never admit how much that meant to him. “Thank you,” he said before he pulled the cowl back on and made his way out. Before he reached the door, he paused, “Oh, and talk to Clark later today. He wants to be a guest host.”

Marvel stood there, brows furrowed and mouth agape. “But you just said—”

“He enjoys listening to your show and wants to be involved, that’s not a bad thing, Billy. Besides, he got the idea after hearing Tim and Conner were guest speakers, and it’ll only be a baking segment. He shouldn’t give you too much trouble.”

Later, Billy would feel like either Bruce had purposefully invoked some type of jinxing magic on him, or he knew how the event would turn out exactly. It would not be surprising if Bruce listened in on that broadcast in the Batcave, chuckling to himself, as he did so.

-

“—I don’t think the pie is supposed to be half raw and half burnt, Mister Kent.”

There was a sigh as distinct kitchen sounds were made. “No, no it’s not.”

“Did you follow Ma Kent’s recipe exactly?”

“No, no I did not.”

“You took creative liberties with it, huh?”

“Really not appreciating your sass right now, Wiz Kid.”

“Well, Fawcett City, I can’t say this was a successful baking hour, but the night is young and we still have the cookie dough left to eat. So, while we get this place cleaned up, Mister Kent can talk about the local lore around rural Kansas.”

There was a deep, rumbling laughter, filled with mirth and exasperation. “Alright, alright. Request heard loud a clear—”

-

At the ripe ol’ age of fourteen, Billy Batson refused to believe he was hitting a midlife crisis milestone.

But despite struggling to keep his outrageously busy work-life balance from toppling over, he still found small snatches of time to himself. Time that often left him craving something he couldn’t put a name on. Billy had refused to call himself bored, but that still left him in the midst of midnight restlessness. 

It was strange that something as selfish and small as a hobby could fill the empty void.  
Even when he finally settled on something to pass the time, he couldn’t help but shape it into something productive, something that would benefit others. He had inconsistently toyed with the idea of being a radio news host, of broadcasting to civilians the information that current news sources often kept in the dark. Afterall, knowledge was power, and whether Billy Batson or Captain Marvel, he always aimed to do what was best for the people.

Despite this, however, it wasn’t until his friends had joined in on his broadcasts that he realized something. It wasn’t just boredom that plagued him in the middle of night, as he sat in his home and contemplated going out for another round of patrolling, or when he stared at his contact list and struggled with the simple effort of messaging someone to see if they were awake and free.

Billy realized that he had also been lonely.

That it wasn’t just occupying his hands or mind that he needed to fill the time, but someone else’s presence to fill the space around him. That coming home every night to an empty apartment, with no one else to talk to, to help break the silence was equal parts boredom and loneliness. Starting up the radio show not only fulfilled his need to help others, to share resources needed by the masses, but he almost felt less isolated. Like anyone listening in was helping him just as he was helping them.

But having his friends there – physically or even listening in somewhere distant – that was what truly made his nightly broadcasts fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope yall enjoyed this!
> 
> I kinda flurried through it this week, as I finished a larger chapter in the main story and wanted to submit this. But I kinda really enjoy the shorter stories with snippets I can just end when I wanna lol.


	5. Considerable Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!
> 
> Been a pretty hectic past few months, huh? Hope yall are doing well and hanging in there.
> 
> Had a few side projects I was working on and fell outta the Shazam bandwagon, but I'm steadily getting back on. So, here's a little something for yall. I actually posted this on tumblr a bit ago but debated on if to post it here, as idk how set in stone this is in regards to the main story. 
> 
> But yall deserve it. As a treat.
> 
> This is set post main story line. Captain Marvel's identity has just been revealed to the main Leaguers, and hes been put on suspension.

The first time Marvel tried to leave Fawcett City, J'onn was there to stop him.

"I cannot allow you to pass city limits, Captain." He said, and moved to push Marvel back every time.

.

The second time Marvel tried to leave, Green Lantern was there.

Just lounging about in a hammock from his ring, looking at his phone like he was enjoying a relaxing day out.

"Sorry, bud," he said, only glancing up with a shrug. "You know the rules."

.

The third time Marvel was actually able to leave, because there was nobody around to stop him. Because they were all out at Metropolis fighting an army that didn't really exist because, well. Illusion magic.

Marvel really felt they could use a hand from the Champion of Magic himself.

Apparently, the others did not feel the same.

From the moment he showed up, those that noticed told him to stay aside, that they could handle it, that he could get hurt, that he should leave it to them.

_"This isn't your fight, kiddo."_

_"Go back home, champ."_

_"Watch your back, kid."_

Yeah. Well. This kid just saved their collective magic inept butts, so...

Superman did not see it that way. The second the fight was over, he was right there, back straight and shoulders broad and brows furrowed.

"That was reckless, Billy. You were not called in to join the fight, and if you had misstepped in the slightest someone could have seriously been hurt."

But he didn't misstep. This was a magic fight and _hello_, did they forget what he's good at? They could suspend him all they want, they couldn't keep him away from where he needed to be, they couldn't freaking _ground_ him.

Something hot and uncomfortable unfurled in his chest. He felt his fists curl at his side, involuntary sparks of electricity snapped around them. On the inside, Billy felt like screaming. On the outside, Marvel felt his jaw clench.

"I understand that, but--"

"Do you?" Superman interrupted. He didn't believe him. "Do you really understand how much damage was done? How much more could have been done? This is why you're on suspension, Billy. You can't just go around getting into every fight--"

"Marvel."

"What?"

"My name is Marvel," he ground out with surprising calm. "And every fight that needs me _is_ my fight, Superman."

Superman crossed his arms and stared him down, like Marvel wasn't as tall as him, as broad and muscled and powerful as he was. Like Marvel hadn't just saved their asses.

Marvel kept his chin up and eyes forward. He would not back down. Not even from his hero.

"There's still a lot you have to learn, then. Go home, _Captain._"

With the threat neutralized, the team watching, and civilians and news reporters starting to venture back out, Captain Marvel knew there was nothing else left for him there.

A bolt of lightning struck him.

Rather dramatic, as exits went. But like hell he was going home, where he was sure another Leaguer would come patrol, where he was being commanded to stay - so the Rock of Eternity it was.

.

He didn't try to leave Fawcett City for awhile after that. (At least, not in any way that they would notice).

.

There were no missions, no patrols, no monitor duties, no cafeteria hang outs or briefings or alerts. His communicator was forfeited, his access to the Watchtower denied, his place on the Justice League all but officially revoked. However, with how often one of the other heroes showed up to assist him with his own city's emergencies, Marvel felt like he was seeing the League a lot more than he had before his suspension.

Since they couldn't really stop him, they interfered as much as possible.

The Flash would stop by and want to grab food, always ready to take Billy somewhere to eat, and sometimes he’d drag Hal with to mess around at an arcade, and well, would you look at that, there's a bank robbery taking place, lemme get that for you.

Green Arrow and Black Canary came to town during the week, asking him about his home life and family and schooling and what he wanted to do, as if there was anything besides being Captain Marvel, and they tried very hard to be very nice and very friendly and very nosy.

Kori frequently came blazing by. She would greet him with a hug and be excited to see him. Like she actually wanted to. Every time, she would excuse the lack of Roy and Jason, stating that they wanted to give him space. She would ask him if her presence was a burden, was unwanted. And every time Billy would say no and hold her hand just a bit tighter. There were never questions about his memory loss, about what he came to remember, as if she understood the precipice he was balancing on and only wanted to remind him she was there. Billy appreciated that a lot.

Even Doctor Fate showed up. Suddenly next to him in the middle of the night as he glided through the sky. Not saying much of anything, though Marvel could feel his stare, feel his assessment. There were questions he wanted to ask, answers he wanted known, but still he didn't push. He just floated alongside Marvel until he vanished again. It was creepy, but it could've been worse.

Very rarely, in the corner of his eye, he would spot Batman or Nightwing, just on the edge of a building's shadow. A few times during the day, Billy caught sight of Bruce or one of the other batfamily. They would be strolling through the streets like it was a normal occurrence for them to be in Fawcett, and every time, Billy ran the other way. The thought of meeting them like this, as himself, as street rat Billy Batson made his heart race and head dizzy. He couldn't do it. Not now, not yet.

.

Captain Marvel could hardly go on patrol without another hero showing up at some point, all of them seemingly taking shifts to watch him, to babysit him in his own city. Like he couldn't be trusted any more. Like he couldn't be the hero he had been this whole time.

Billy couldn't sleep at night. Couldn't lie on his bare mattress in his apartment without jumping at the slightest of sounds. As if the others would barge in and take him as he slept. The wards that were put up awhile ago did not help soothe this fear. Tawny's reassurances that they would not let anyone take him only comforted him in so much that he did not want his Familiar harmed, either. Not for him, not because of him.

He spent a lot of time sleeping at the Rock, where at least he felt safe.

.

Superman never stopped by. Aside from that first confrontation in Metropolis, Marvel hadn't seen him. No lectures, no orders, no commands, not even static silence. Nothing. Word from Hal was he had originally wanted to actually ground Billy. Keep him at the Watchtower where he could be easily monitored and cared for. But the idea was shot down and he'd been a little miffed about it. Still, that didn't stop the spike of paranoia Billy felt upon learning it.

Diana never contacted him, either, surprisingly. And that hurt more than he thought it would. Marvel remembered the look of sadness on her face, the hidden anger in her voice, and the passion she gave as she tried to defend him, as he stood before the League and confessed to his deceit, to his lying. She looked like he betrayed her. Even if she showed up, Billy had no idea what he could possibly say to apologize, to make it better.

Victor's position in the League was on the line, too, and Billy hadn't heard any more from him except that he'd be out of touch for a bit while he was essentially grounded. For him, that meant staying at his Detroit home with supervision whilst on duty at the Watchtower. The curdling feeling of guilt that he had brought this onto his friend sent Billy into such distress he didn't leave the Rock for the whole day.

Constantine thought the whole thing was bollocks. Said they had no right to control him, to stop him. He also said a few curses about them and the Wizard, but Billy let it slide. It felt nice to have someone truly in his corner. When John offered to whisk him on a vacation for awhile, see the other side of the pond, Billy regretfully declined. He felt like that was running away from his problems and he hated that notion most of all. Still, he thanked John for talking to him, even if it was just through the mirror. It helped elevate the ache in his chest.

.

Billy hadn't felt this way - this distant, disconnected, and closed off way - in a very long time.

.

"You keep returning here, young Tháv̱ma."

_Don't look at him, don't talk to him, don't listen to him._

"Over and over again, you grace these stone halls."

_He's goading you. Don't fall for it. Don't fall for it!_

"Tell me, do you miss the cold throne and all the power it holds so much?"

_Don't fall for it! Don't listen! Don't--_

"Or are you here for something else?"

_Don't react! Don't--_

"Perhaps you wish to find the echoes of the old Wizard's ghost haunting this Rock?"

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't--_

"Or perhaps... perhaps you wish to find solace in a familiar presence?"

_Don't cry, don't--_

"Tell me, how heavy is the burden of being both Wizard and Champion?"

_Don't--_

"You seem lonely, young Tháv̱ma."

_I am._

Billy was so, so lonely.

"I know loneliness, and all its dark corners, very well."

_Really?_

"Oh, yes. Spent thousands of years trapped and alone."

Oh. Of course, Teth Adam would understand.

"I am here."

_Please._

"I will listen."

_Please._

"Talk to me, young Tháv̱ma."

Billy didn't want to be alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Hope this tides yall over until the next chapter. And you enjoyed the special guest at the end ;)
> 
> As I said, how the League reacts here may not completely hold up in the main story line, so I kept it a bit vague with the exceptions of a few. They certainly have their opinions on the matter, but we wont get into that just yet. 
> 
> (Please know that I am taking a great consideration of each Leaguers position with Marvels identity. I would appreciate it if I didn't get any more comments on how certain characters should act or who would obviously find out the truth, etc. I'm writing this bc I had my own headcanons that I wanted to see in a story. That's all)
> 
> If I post any more snippets or concepts, itll be on tumblr first: rema-writes or cannotgiveafuck


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